


SATANOPHANY: INNOCENT DAGGER

by dreamscriber



Category: Satanofani; Satanophany;
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, action horror; manga; comic;
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 19:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamscriber/pseuds/dreamscriber
Summary: Chika Amagi is brainwashed into taking out guards in a compound. Based on the manga the fanfiction story has some backstory on. 2000 words. Spelling may also be SATANOFANI.





	SATANOPHANY: INNOCENT DAGGER

Based on the Yamada Yoshinobu manga

Confines so metal, looking from outside it would be a VAB, a French constructed armoured vehicle, rolling along the road. The occupants buffeted slightly, inside the girl looks quite harmless sporting the daylight personality, sharing the confines are several men dressed in fatigues and FAMAS rifle armed could be forgiven if mistook for soldiers. 

‘We wouldn’t be made for this job if we drop the ball. You’re our precious charge,’ assures Maruta.

Chika Amiga’s physical traits are slim yet shapely bust, age seventeen; hair is long, straight and jet black, strands on her forehead; smaller than all the men. She not unhappy or uneasy, but a curiosity to the youthful face. 

‘I don’t get why soldiers have to escort little me. A student.’  
‘Don’t worry that little head of yours.’  
‘See this is all so strange. You got to understand.’

The girl is told pretty dull conversation if nothing in her stomach and offered a whole wheat turkey sandwich complete with a cup of juice. The girl responds not particularly full and watching her weight. 

Chika is told she ate plenty without regret, no food was safe. The girl takes them from his hand.  
An eye of his narrows slyly. 

Their ride comes to a stop, the engine shuts off. Several hundred yards distant stood a compound, the man suggests she go greet them. 

Stepping out in to daytime Chika stands barely five feet high. Her casual clothes superseded by a dress. Honest to God white bridal gown, sleeves cover the arms whole, its lower half an ever widening skirt, adorning her head a tiara. 

Inhaling the outdoors again, starts walking, her arms holding up the skirt. ‘Thought nothing of changing in front us grown men when you downed that juice. The dress your ‘switch.’’ The leader gets on the VAB’s radio, ‘Bride is on target, over.’

Closer the girl got easier to make out armed men. In short order one emerged from the guard house at the gate, on his shoulder patch like all the rest embroidered is Itsubishi Industries. A guard tower looms above. 

A girl stands, hands behind the back. He questions this odd sight, the girl speaks in a normal tone answering, ‘See mister folks sent me on an errand.’  
The guard’s eyes bulge. ‘Missy I can’t make heads or tails of you.’  
Then suddenly in a savage tone, ‘Strange? When I’m here to waste y’all?!’ In a flash each ear has a blade piercing deep, blood seeps out. Stabbed simultaneously with the two knives Chika hid behind her. Of a kind wielded by the Russian called Katya Rasutorugueva. 

The going ons are seen through Maruta’s binoculars, his body is half though the top hatch. On the radio announces, ‘The murder bride is in play. The murder experiment has begun.’

The bride pushes the heavy gate open with one hand, suggesting high strength. She steps onto the compound. 

For a weapons loadout a small blade per hand. In a word, inhuman. Bullets began flying from the men’s Mark 14 Enhanced Battle Rifles, heavy firepower. Despite this she’s blistering: reflexes and agility exceed any person’s, ran tens of miles of per hour like a cheetah but faster, closing the distance to any man in sight for the kill. 

Slashed a carotid artery; eviscerates a belly so guts spill. 

With great rapidity plunges a blade into a man’s chest and the back in unison, then before he falls appropriates his rifle, aims high at the guard tower firing a quick burst at someone concealed behind structure out of sight, the bullets perforate well enough, blood escapes. Topped with throwing the spinning weapon at another man thirty feet away finally reclaiming her blades before the gun had time to finally smash the distant guard.

Back at the Véhicule de l'avant blindé, the leader is in conversation with someone who can be non-other than the young female doctor judging by that disembodied voice. The chief. 

The bride pulls evasive manoeuvres like the world’s deadliest acrobat, plus steadily closing on individual targets for close in kills. Different personality, that innocent one was yesterday, more than that tossed in the bin, now an all-consuming desolating wind scorning the value of life, inhuman less in physical prowess than mentality. 

‘Shoot like girls!’ She taunts. 

Leader on the radio again, from conversation with the doctor, he and his men were to fight too, instead only reports on the rampage. His tone is semi comical and sly, ‘The day will be over before you guys jump in,’ decries the impatient doctor.  
‘We need more time doc.’   
‘Except it ran out on you!’ comes the agitated voice. ‘You were bestowed an armoured troop carrier so you fellas needn’t fear some puny guns. Don’t forget your role in all this commander, support Chika in combat. We will not be bereft a vital subject!’  
‘Oh. Death in white’s on to her next guinea pig.’ Safely unseen smirks. 

Murderous face in glee, kicked the legs out one guard, before he can hit the ground, pierced in the heart simultaneously with both blades. Speeds to another to stab both eyes. ‘Bigger a dick, quicker a death.’ Few girls in the history of earth mock while killing. 

There is not one sound, the cacophony is too many to count. A freaking M14 on rapid fire behind, its gunner sweeping in a sideways motion shooting from the hip. The small girl’s face is startled, zips out from the lethal arc – that mini engagement lasted three seconds. 

Amiga kept racing till vanishing round the building’s corner. Roughly ten men breathe, emotions anger and shock. Her cute face pokes out after several seconds and perhaps unsurprisingly blow a raspberry at them with the tongue and disappears. 

‘Girly puts Riddick and Navy Seals to shame,’ comments Maruta. 

Her pursuers split. One is looking around standing. ‘Yahoo!’ comes a yell. Looking up last he sees is a bride gown in mid-air from the roof. He has two blades in the throat. She has mounted the supine fellow. Joking, turns her head to a non-existent camera to break the fourth wall asking if her undergarments were victim to a peeping tom. 

Further along another guard opens fire at a charging girl. Not straight ahead, tactical acumen is to zig zag at super speed and close in…

Perplexed was the safest word for his countenance. The target disappeared when it was to the front. Thoughts are interrupted by a tap from behind. Whipping around, nothing. A hand grabs his throat from behind. In both cases moved faster than the eye can follow. Repeatedly is stabbed in the back, ‘Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle!’ 

More bodies are strewn about the place a while later.

‘Lucky number twenty,’ the commander radios. His binoculars pick up a scene. Wasn’t the nineteen bodies. 

Chika mounted another supine fellow, blade at the throat. He stares at a panting woman in despair. Brain vaguely registered a light body was astride his own. In a while removes the blade and drops both, her panting ceased, mind back to normalcy. Saying in her sane original tone. ‘Dude it was a workout for me. Shouldn’t have wasted your pals. What happened shouldn’t have. I’ll let you walk.’  
His visage in doubt.   
‘I’m too tired. Wanna walk?’  
He nods. Her crazed tone returns, ‘That’s what a dick wants me to say!’ 

Grips his throat by both hands choking, whilst banging his head upon the ground madly. 

No longer at the hatch but within the VAB’s depths. ‘Was safer behind steel,’ smirks the commander giving his companions a salute. ‘Driver, mosey on over – mind the red puddles.’

The engine comes to life. He radios to this not hidden partner but overseer, targets engaged successfully. Adding, ‘Aren’t enough superlatives: immaculate murder tool; craziest girl alive; degree in murder.’ 

The medical practitioner understood the game had climaxed. Convinced Amiga did it all herself, didn’t matter if assistance wasn’t needed. ‘Fear to call it letting you slide, but the fact we were successful means we can do business again.’ Tone a warning, ‘Once you don’t trip in your own mire trooper.’

Eyes burst open. Awoke sweaty in their quarters, deciding after contemplation wasn’t the doc’s drugs nor another murder game. Feels what made her do all that in the dream was juice that guy gave, because she turns killer at night, that craziness was daytime. ‘I was, was a murder bride.’ The only way that dress ‘switch’ would be worn. 

Stark reality comes about what’s been done to them: the unjust sentence of murder (Chika slew five corrupt souls bent on gang rape in two minutes). Virtue ripped from girls in a prison made to kill each other in murder games she didn’t understand for what. Knew the next one due, what sickness will they make her do again?

Dreams have her a murdering beast as in her reality! 

A peculiar syndrome turns girls into the most savage of murderers. After trial are deposited to Haguro Prison where their unbridled kill lust blooms to new heights. Doctors tinker on minds basing them on actual killers, Amagi’s is Henry Lee Lucas. At night participate in murder games for scientific development.

Knees bent upward buried her face in her legs, sobbing.


End file.
